Even ‘God’ made mistakes

Recently, I recounted how, as a young journalist in the Swinging Sixties, I had been ordered to drive through a Category 4 cyclone to report for work by a boss I described as an addition to the Holy Trinity - God the Editor.

Some online comments suggested I could just have laughed down the phone and refused outright. But those were different times, Labor's current controversial Closing the Loopholes Bill with its "Right to Disconnect" rules was as unimaginable as life on Mars, and I would have been looking for another new career with a mortgage and a pregnant young wife to care for.

The Editor was omnipotent, his commands to be obeyed at all costs and I was just a mere junior reporter. But the Fourth Estate's version of the Heavenly Trinity had some human frailties - he could make mistakes. One of these involved me and narrowly avoided, potentially costly court litigation which was brought to mind recently by the expanding legal imbroglio surrounding the aborted Brittany Higgins / Bruce Lehrmann trial and subsequent defamation cases.

Even as a cadet journalist, I knew you shouldn't comment on, or report things that haven't actually been discussed in open court - but some senior players in the above cases seem to have been totally oblivious to this basic rule.

I thought I had finally found my niche when I stumbled into journalism - a career which had never been on my radar since leaving high school and completing a three-year pharmacy apprenticeship which I eventually walked away from.

Unlike pill counting and deciphering secret codes in doctors' scrawled handwriting, journalism provided new challenges almost every day. But as a more mature cadet than the usual crop out of high school, I was soon thrown in at the deep end while still having to paddle in the shallows.

After a few months, God the Editor had me covering anything in the Bundaberg district, from CWA and Red Cross meetings to Magistrate's Court, council meetings and even big District Court trials. One day I was called into his office and had to mount my own defence for being late to the CWA Branch annual meeting.

"Why the hell did that happen? You know it's the most important day of the year for all those women?"

"Er, well, Mr H, you also had me down for court and there was a bloke up on an attempted murder charge. The cop prosecutor said he had shot one of his neighbours …. I thought that would be more important".

"But you could have picked up the details from the prosecutor later, couldn't you? Just make sure you get a copy of the CWA president's annual report and a list of elected office bearers. We need to cover the community's bread and butter issues too, not just sensational court stories…"

Yeah right, what would a young cub reporter know? Several months later, I took his advice when a couple of similar engagements clashed. There was an adjourned hearing of the attempted murder case, but as God had directed, I could get the details later. Better not keep those Red Cross ladies waiting (plus they served delicious jam scones and lamingtons after their meetings, just like the CWA members. God's wife, Mrs H, always gave me a warm welcome too).

Well, maybe he was right. The police prosecutor was only too happy to give a graphic outline of the case against the defendant, down to the angry words and fight over a girl which had led to the shooting on a rural property.